Poems (Piatt)/Volume 1/To-day
For works with similar titles, see To-day.
TO-DAY.
Ah, real thing of bloom and breath, I cannot love you while you stay.Put on the dim, still charm of death, Fade to a phantom, float away, And let me call you Yesterday!
Let empty flower-dust at my feet Remind me of the buds you wear;Let the bird's quiet show how sweet The far-off singing made the air; And let your dew through frost look fair.
In mourning you I shall rejoice. Go: for the bitter word may beA music—in the vanished voice; And on the dead face I may see How bright its frown has been to me.
Then in the haunted grass I'll sit, Half tearful in your withered place,And watch your lovely shadow flit Across To-morrow's sunny face, And vex her with your perfect grace.
So, real thing of bloom and breath, I weary of you while you stay.Put on the dim, still charm of death, Fade to a phantom, float away, And let me call you Yesterday!